The Eye of the Beholder
by R-COTA
Summary: Sections from the series written from another character's perspective. I feel many of the individual stories are underwritten, and here is a chance to explore them. I will take requests for chapters. Please PM with scene and character for request!
1. Chapter 1

The Eye of the Beholder

Reaping Day – Peeta Mellark

I woke up with the nerves already in place. They were fierce like every other year and practically cripple me. I am lucky though. My name is only in five times. I have never had to apply for tesserae. I know that she has though. I also know that some of my nerves are for her.

The morning passes by without consequence, but we know soon the world will be bleak.

Before I know it, I am filing into the square with all of the other children. I watch the twelve year olds. Many have tear-streaked faces and are breathing jaggedly. I understand them, it doesn't get any easier. I'm standing uncomfortably close to other boys my age, and everyone is silent and unnerved. I know about twenty metres behind me; my father stands perfectly still, hoping, as I do.

We all watch with apprehensive faces as the lady from Capitol, Effie, prattles on like the Games are the best thing in the world. We all watch as our lone remaining Victor struggles around, drunk. The preamble happens too fast; it is gone in what feels like a mere few painful heartbeats. It's coming. I look over at her, the only one. She is staring at the stage, eyebrows creased in worry as Effie's hand searches through the hundreds of names. My heart pounds as I stare at her. _Not her. Not her. Not her._ I figure I can handle losing others, but not her. Of course, she doesn't know this. Why would you ever tell the person who makes your heart feel like ice and fire at the same time that you love them? The possibility of rejection of course. Finally, Effie pulls a slip out and inwardly reads the name. I tear my eyes from her, Katniss, to look at Effie. _Not her_, my mantra continues relentlessly.

"Primrose Everdeen."

For the tiniest moment I am relieved, until the name truly sinks in. I stare at Katniss again and my heart stops at the look on her face; horror, pain, death are conflicting there in an uncomfortable mess. I can see her sister slowly make her way, as bravely as she can, through the crowds of people. She is so small I can barely see the top of her head. My heart clenches for Katniss. I can't imagine what this is like for her.

That is when she does it. Katniss runs forward, protectively stands in front of her sister and volunteers herself instead. I know now that my face resembles Katniss' earlier expression. _No. No, no. No. _I can't tell if I'm breathing, it doesn't feel like I could ever muster the strength to. I stare at Katniss and I know I am dying on the inside. My mind searches for the next best possible circumstance, wildly, desperately, and I hate myself for it: Please, let the boy be someone weak. Someone easily killed. For her sake, please.

I don't realise that as I stare solely at Katniss' terrified face, Effie has gone through the motions, and is about to pull out the next slip. I revert my attention to her, hoping the next words I hear will increase Katniss' chance.

"Peeta Mellark."

I wonder what my face is like now. I know my body is numb, but hot, sickeningly so. My neck has a shooting pain from being so tense. I make my way up, to death and despair, but also to her. Effie makes us shake hands; the first time we have touched.

Now I know, without a doubt, the world is cruel.

R-COTA


	2. Chapter 2

The Eye of the Beholder

First Night of the Games – Peeta Mellark

I'm alive, I can't believe it. I'm in the dark woods, trying to step as quietly as I can, while still maintaining a good speed. My face is a little dirty; I fell a few times in my hurry to flee. But I'm alive. That was the intended result, and I got it. The cannon has long since boomed to signal the end of the cornucopia bloodbath, but I still don't know who didn't make it. I try and quash my fears for Katniss; I'm not sure if she followed Hamitch's instructions. My stomach grumbles audibly, and my head hurts. I need water already. I trudge along, warily looking around for any potential attackers. I have nothing to defend myself with; the unfortunate result of not grabbing anything at the start and my empty hands feel like a giant, glowing signal for people to come and get me. I am alive though, something others are not. I can't digest how I feel at the moment; happy to be alive, terrified for my safety, terrified for Katniss' safety, guilty for allowing the bloodshed to happen, hating that there will be more, hating myself for accepting there will be more…the list goes on. It doesn't help my poor hurting head.

The Capitol logo shines in the sky and I almost snap my neck to look at it, freezing in my tracks. The faces start appearing in District order. The numbers climb, and I count the deaths in my head, and it gets closer and closer to 12. But it stops. The light fades before District 12 appears. Eleven. Eleven dead, and neither Katniss nor myself was up there. I almost laugh with relief, but my sense of self-preservation says not to. I start to walk again, wondering about my course of action. I have nothing to shelter myself while I sleep, though it's not raining, luckily. I have no food to feed myself with. I have nothing to acquire any food to feed myself with. I have nothing to keep myself warm when the cold of night descends. Things look bleak. I know my only option is to make an alliance. My gut felt sick at the thought. Alliances are always only temporary. There is only one person left at the end. I can't pick Katniss to be my ally. The idea of both of us making it to the final two sickens me. It must be someone else. Someone who-

The leaves crack around me suddenly and someone pounces on me. Someone heavy, and rough. Someone wielding a blade. It's Cato. i_Damn, I'm dead already/i._ He has forced me to the ground, and is sitting on my chest, breathing haggardly. I wonder how long he's been stalking me.

"Lover boy," he says roughly, holding his blade threateningly close to my neck. I notice four other people come out from the shadows. A few Careers. I recognise Clove, also from Cato's district, and Marvel and Glimmer. I can't place the name on the third girl, but I'm fairly certain she's from District 4. I can tell they all have weapons. How else would they appear so relaxed? Really, Cato's blade has my full attention. "Where's the girl? The one who scored eleven?" My heart does an uncomfortable flip.

"I don't know." It's honest. I really don't know, but if I did, I'd still say the same thing. Cato presses his blade closer so that it brushes my neck. It doesn't look as though he believes me.

"I don't believe you." Yup, doesn't believe me. He pushes his angry face close to mine, his teeth bared. "I can force it out of you, though. If you tell me now, I'll make her death quick." This is doubtful, but I don't let my scepticism show. Instead, I come up with a plan. A good plan…maybe.

"I seriously don't know," I growl, trying to act aggressive and dominant. "We're not really together. I made that up to try and get sponsors. She almost broke my hands after my interview she was so angry." Truth and lies together at last. Cato studies me. He obviously needs more proof. "I can help you find her. I know how she acts in these situations. I can track her lots better than you can. I can help." I can see this processing in his mind. He looks at Clove, for reassurance possibly, who has an unreadable expression.

"Why should I believe you?"

"She's the most dangerous and I want her gone just like you." The lie hurts, but I push onward. Cato reads my face some more, before he suspiciously gets off me. It's then I realise he had been crushing me. I take in a greatly needed breath.

"Alright, but you're on probation." He indicates with his blade for me to stand up, and I do, my legs a little wobbly. "You first," he flicks the blade in an onwards direction, and in that direction I march, deciding if I have done the right thing. I have a temporary alliance with the strongest people out of all of us. Who want Katniss dead. I see an opportunity to steer them away. I just hope they don't notice. After several minutes of the Careers following me, clearly their patience has run thin.

"Are we on the right track, or not?" Barks Clove. I didn't like her one bit. I turn back to look at her, and roll my eyes.

"Of course. Now shut up, or she'll hear you. She's used to hunting, you know." Inwardly I wonder if that last piece of information was too much. I continue walking, walking, not really aiming anywhere. I have no clue where she is and I hope that no one figures it out, and that I don't accidentally run into somebody. I'm just wishing this when I see a fire. Small, and distant, but it is unmistakably a fire. The orange hues float through the trees like a mini sun. Discreetly I try and change course, but it's too late.

"Over there!" whispers Cato. He races forward quietly, the other Careers trailing closely. I see them poise their weapons as they run. i_It's not Katniss/i_, I think to myself. i_She's too smart./i _Again, I find myself pained that I am wishing someone else is about to die. The group stops stealing through the trees when we are about fifteen metres away. They spread out to form a trapping circle around her without any hint of communication. I am a part of it too, but I don't intend to move. I can see the girl sitting by her fire, desperately trying to keep warm. It is not Katniss. You can see in her eyes she is exhausted, from being tired and scared. i_I'm sorry!/i _My thoughts desperately try to reach her, but of course it's not use. Cato and his group lunge as one well-oiled murderous machine, startling the girl. She screams loud, expectedly. She quickly stands, taking in the fact that she is surrounded on almost all sides. Regretfully, I step forward to take my place in the circle, closing off her last opportunity. I stare at this girl, her wide eyes, and the realisation on her face that she is about to die.

"Get her," says one Career. The girl has been stabbed, shot, and beat within seconds. Cato ran her stomach through with his blade, while the other Career girl shot her body with an arrow, the others merely acting as a cage. Clove kicked her to knock her downwards, where she lay shivering and wincing in pain, the blood slowly pooling out under her. The Careers laugh maliciously, and they walk off. The girl is looking at me, as the life slowly drains out of her. I think she can see I didn't want this. I turn to follow the others, so as to not raise suspicion. We've only gone a few feet when Cato confronts me.

"That wasn't the right girl," he says, clearly demanding an explanation.

"I'm sure she's around here. She'd be bunkered in for the night already. I doubt you'll find her in this darkness." This seems enough for Cato, and he re-joins his joyous group. We begin to hear the girl moaning all the way back next to her fire. She's crying and in pain. It's then that the group notices the cannon didn't go off, signalling her death. You can see they all want to finish her off, and horribly. I quickly volunteer, taking the blade off Cato and sauntering back towards her. I can hear them laughing as I stride away.

I'm getting closer to the fire, and I can see the girl again, still lying on the ground. She looks as though she has tried to move a little, but there is too much blood and she rapidly grows weaker. She has precious little time left. She hears me coming and strains her head to see. Her reaction saddens me; it is actually hopeful. She believes I may be here to help her. I gently kneel next to her, and I push her hair out of her eyes. I notice she is very cold. Her mouth opens shakily, her breathing hoarse.

"Please...please…" A few tears leak out her eyes, but she continues to focus on me, weakly repeating her plea for help. My horribly sad and regretful expression gives away my intention, and her eyes grow wide and fearful.

"You were very brave," I whisper, grasping one of her hands. "But I'm sorry." I shove the blade as hard as I can into her throat, but not before she lets out a strangled scream. Some more blood gushes down the blade. I feel her die simultaneously as a part of my soul does. The cannon booms, and her eyes are dim, almost closed. I squeeze her hand once more, forcing back the tears threatening to come from my eyes, swallowing back the need to retch, and make my way back to the group, leaving her mangled body to stain red the green ground below her.

I announce her death loudly.

(A/N) Please review! If you would like a section re-written please contact me! Private message is preferred, but the information in a review is acceptable. Please tell me which book, which scene, and which character you would like the POV to be from.


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